


Hate Is Not The Word

by B_Uthoughtwrong



Series: The Things I Hate About You [3]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Insert, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 23:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Uthoughtwrong/pseuds/B_Uthoughtwrong
Summary: A drabble-y take on the third line, technically third but actually second hated thing, of the poem in the film 10 Things I Hate About You."I hate the way you drive my car"





	Hate Is Not The Word

**Author's Note:**

> Bruh, it's hard to explain to someone who hasn't watched the film or seen the actual poem, but basically it states more than ten things and I've decided to cut them and make more drabble-y drabbles.  
> Sorry for any typos. I am, in fact, a zombie after all.  
> xxx

_I hate the way you drive my car_

* * *

Johnathan, dear Johnathan, always such a darn reckless driver.

The first time he borrowed my car, I got it back without a scratch... _without a car to scratch,_ that is, and he was lookin' _just_ better than my mauled car was. The mere fact he had driven it back to my chop shop was some sort of miracle in disguise to me. I punched him square in the jaw for it, and though he was definitely surprised, still injured too by the way, he couldn't even be angered by my actions because he understood how much that car, or what was left of it, meant to me.

Of course the second time he asked if he could borrow my car, I laughed at him as I thought he was seriously _joking,_ but when I realized he was _simply_ serious, I crossed my arms at sighed at myself. I gave him my car keys and threatened to do so much more than punch him if he so much punctured the untouched leather wrapping of my fresh minted seats. In turn, he promised me he'd take as much care of it as he could. That statement made my brother, Aurelio, laugh in sheer amusement as the _boogeyman_ made his way out of the place.

Funny enough, I kissed him on the lips because he was true to his word and unbelievably bought my car back without a single scratch on it. The kiss was too quick for anyone to make out as something more than a showcase of gratitude though, but deep down, I was also really happy that the man hadn't gone leaving chunks of himself on the streets for birds to peck on.

 

The third time around, though he showed he was more than trust worthy enough to borrow my car, I gave him another one, a fast and fashionable one as well, but a car that was _definitely_ not mine. However smart I felt for that moment, I still apparently was not to escape from my car's seemingly inescapable fate connected with John Wick. He had limped into the shop out of the blue one afternoon and he immediately came looking for me, not even bothering to notice Aurelio's expression due to the looks of the badly beaten man.

"I need your car." he panted as he gripped my shoulders with all the life of him.

"What happened to the other one?" I panicked and knit my brows.

"I left it there, it wasn't worth retrieving." he said as he pushed his fingers into my jean's back pocket, knowing exactly that it was were I kept my car keys. I groaned and caught the man's wrist before he went off to once again borrow my car... more like _kidnap,_ really, or _car_ -nap, I guess. "My car _is_ worth retrieving, John." I mumbled just as he broke away. He looked at me quickly, made no retort, and got inside my car. Once the engine started, he turned to me and spoke up, "As long as it's yours, it is."

 

My car hadn't been lucky that other time, dear lord, _he_ wasn't lucky that other time. It was a week after John had borrowed my car that my brother found the vehicle flattened up into scrap in some comically cliché abandoned warehouse. Aurelio towed it back to the shop, but all I could think of was John and if he was as badly beaten as my car. "He's a big boy, sweetheart." was all my brother reasoned out to me in the end.

Later that same night, I closed up the shop late and alone as my brother had to leave early to do some business. I heard a ruckus by the back door, and I readied my pistol at that moment. But the sound of my name being wheezed out in pain made my heart drop. I made no sound as I found my way back and gazed upon a chewed up figure in black and blood, "Dammit John," I whispered helping him up. It took all of him to get to his feet and it took all of me to bring him inside. He started coughing as I sat him down on a hard, steel chair in order to get a first aid kit and some water.

When I got back, he coaxed up another cough then spoke, "I'm sorry about your car."

I chuckled dryly, "Yeah, after patching you up, I'm going to beat you back down again." I said, pushing the glass of water to his lips as I pulled his top off, placing bandages on his smaller wounds, and a tad shakily stitching up his bigger ones.

 

There was only silence between us, besides the few winces I would make for John who seemed equally unfazed by what _had_ happened to him and what _was_ happening to him. "For the love of all things sweet, don't ever  _fucking_ borrow my car again." I moaned in frustration.

After deeming he was good to go, I yawned, lead him to a car in the shop, and drove the both of us to my home, deep in the heart of New York. When we arrived, I got out of the car and helped him get out. He grunted but got to his feet, then muttered my name under his breath. "Thank you," he started, "for everything."

I was about to say something, but whatever it was I quickly forgot as cool lips were then pressed against mine. I immediately found myself melting into the kiss, the warmth I had, travelling to the bruised man and my hands gently cupping his face, which was nicked and stitched in a few places. As his whiskers scratched and tickled my skin, I felt one of his hands find its way to the small of my back and I was pulled closer to his body from there. The moment our kiss ended, I saw a look on the man's face which I learned to know meant nothing but trouble.

He traced the frame of my face lightly with his fingers, breathed in, then squinted slightly. "I need to... _borrow this_ car."


End file.
